Bright carpets, and curtains, furniture, pictures, and ornaments covered the length of two parlors separated only by folding-doors, and mirrors, that reached from the floor to the ceiling, reflected her figure full length, as she stood in the midst of the magnificence, in her Yorkbury hat and homemade casaque.
"Sit down, sit down," said her uncle; "I'll call your aunt.

I don't see where they are; I told them to be on hand,--Kate, where's Mrs.Breynton ?" "She's up-stairs, sir, dressing," said the servant, who had opened the door.
"Tell her Miss Gypsy has come; sit down, child, and make yourself at home." Gypsy sat down, and Mr.Breynton, not satisfied with sending a message to his wife, went to the foot of the stairs, and called,-- "Miranda!--Joy!" A voice from somewhere above answered, a little sharply, that she was coming as fast as she could, and she told Joyce to go down long ago, but she hadn't stirred.
Gypsy heard every word, and she began to wonder if her aunt were very glad to see her, and what sort of a girl her cousin must be, if she didn't obey her mother unless she chose to.

Just then Joy came down stairs, walking very slowly and properly, and came into the parlor with the manners of a young lady of eighteen.

She might have been a pretty child, if she had been dressed more plainly and becomingly; but her face was pale and thin, and there was a fretful look about her mouth, that almost spoiled it.
Gypsy went up warmly, and kissed her.

Joy had extended the tips of her fingers to shake hands, and she looked a little surprised, but kissed her politely, and asked if she were tired with the journey.